


Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

by mindy_makru_tutu



Category: 30 Rock
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2019-08-27 10:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16700521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindy_makru_tutu/pseuds/mindy_makru_tutu
Summary: Jack helps Liz release some tension.





	Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

This was Jack’s idea.

Okay...well. The shooting was Jack’s idea.

The sex.

That. Was all her. Not that he put up much of a fight. But still. Her idea. The sex probably would not have happened without the totally unexpected rush she got from firing Jack’s pistol though. And that is not a euphemism. She does mean his pistol, his piece, his gun, and not anything more...intimate. Although what the euphemism would imply is also not inaccurate. Because not long after handling Jack’s gun she finds herself handling his penis. And by penis she absolutely means his penis. No euphemism there. She’s holding Jack’s member, his sex, his...thingy.

Not that she’s over-thinking this. In fact, she’s really not. That’s kind of the problem. That’s why it happens. Usually, she thinks too much during sex. Before sex. After sex. All the time. But Liz hasn’t had a clear, logical thought in her head since she pulled the trigger for the second time. Apparently after doing so, her brain was far too occupied with kissing him and touching him and undressing him and, well...jumping him is really the only word for what she does. Which again, is very weird behaviour for her. She’s never jumped anyone in her entire life. Never wanted to. Never had to have someone right there and then without delay. Never. Ever.

This was supposed to be about relieving her tension. Or something. The shooting. Not the other thing. The sex. It was Jack’s idea, after seeing her all pent up that morning, pacing his office, face frowning, arms flailing, mouth complaining. He’d spouted something predictably smug about her stress levels and their effect on the show’s productivity. She doesn’t really remember the details now. Brain not working good. But there’d been some logic to taking out her frustrations on a defenceless paper target at a dingy indoor shooting range he occasionally visited on his lunch hour. He’d told her that all her troubles would melt away with one squeeze of the trigger, all her inhibitions would just magically disappear. It sounded pretty good, if unlikely. And that last part was definitely true. Her inhibitions are dust. It’s also true that she’s no longer worrying over Tracy’s gigantic ego, nor rambling about Jenna’s ridiculous demands. So in a way, Jack was right. He also showed remarkable foresight when he eyed her up and down, adding that knowing her level of frustration it might take more than just one bullet to achieve release and that liberating all that long pent-up energy of hers might prove risky.

Still, it was something Jack highly recommended and he had this way of making everything seem so totally reasonable. At the time, Liz was just desperate enough and just gullible enough to agree to his suggestion. She was also distracted enough by her own problems to not give much thought to the erotic little twinkle in his eye. She’d seen that same twinkle plenty of times over the years, even before it was appropriate for him to share it with a co-worker of the opposite sex. She’d gotten used to it by now. Because Jack got all erotic over the most random things. Generally, more than once a day. She could write a whole list of things that turned him on. Except that doing so would make her feel more than a little squeamish. Her point being, that it wouldn’t at all surprise her to put on Jack’s list of erotically charged activities: “shooting a loaded firearm”. Along with fighting with his conniving ex-wife, playing hardball, eating a good steak and well, actual sex. Not that she knew this last one from personal experience. But knowing him, it was a pretty safe bet that sex with a woman turned Jack on. An assumption that after today she will be able to personally verify.

What would surprise Liz is putting “shooting a loaded firearm” on a list of things that turn her on. Especially since that list would be really, really short. Of course, eating a steak does give her great pleasure. But not that kind of pleasure. Sex would not be on her list either. At least, not the sex she’s had with anyone in the past. She might have to revise her list though to make it more specific. Add to it: “Sex with Jack”. Because weird though it may be, that does seem to work for her. Like nothing has ever has. What’s more, nothing, nothing in her whole life, has ever set her off in the way that firing his gun did. Which is unexpected. It’s unexpected to her anyway. She assumes Jack didn’t expect her to jump him right after firing a gun for the first time. The first time, intentionally, that is. Because shooting that Black dude in the butt was an accident, no matter what the incident report said about her being a rampant bigot.

Actually, the first time she shot Jack’s gun, she nearly landed on her butt. The force of bullet leaping out of the barrel pitched her backwards, her elbows turning to jelly and her knees instantly giving out as the bullet pinged off the impervious grey walls. Luckily, Jack had anticipated this and was standing behind her, hands at shoulder height, ready to prevent her from falling backwards. Which he did. When he put her back on her feet and steadied her there, her cheeks were already flushed with exhilaration and with anticipation for the next bullet. Her heart began to race, blood pumping through her body at an alarming rate. She gripped the gun tighter, breathing shallowly as his hands eased her shoulders down and made her elbows bend a little. Then his hands went to her hips as he kicked her feet further apart.

“Breathe,” he murmured in her ear. “Try aiming this time.”

Liz bit her lip. She narrowed her eyes at the target, trigger finger twitching. And a zillion little things flashed through her mind. Frank trashing an all-nighter script. Pete calling her a fancy prostitute. Tracy pulling his pants down on air. Jenna telling everyone she wanted a baby. Floyd dumping her for a city. Her mom pestering her for grandchildren. Jack calling her in the middle of the night. Jack wanting to be her mentor. Jack passing her off as his live-in girlfriend. Slapping Jack. Hugging Jack. Laughing with Jack. Laughing at Jack. Rolling her eyes at Jack. Smiling at him. Him smiling back. Calling him in the middle of the night. Punching his shoulder on a busy street. Jack nearly kissing her. Jack touching her. Jack not touching her. Jack touching her now...

“Now fire,” he said.

And she did. Five times. Emptying the barrel. And something snapped. Then something else took over. Which would be when the sex all started.  
  
She barely even noticed Jack taking the gun and setting it aside somewhere safe. Probably a good idea and not one she was capable of. Because she had her hands inside his jacket as she pushed him back against the wall of the dim, deserted space. She didn’t even think about what would happen if someone came in, what they’d witness, how she’d feel about it later. No one did though. No one entered while she was pushing his jacket off his shoulders. No one entered as she was mashing her mouth against his, opening his lips with her own. No one entered when she pulled back, her lips wet with saliva to tell him, breathless and desperate:

“Touch me, won’t you? Fucking touch me already, Jack.”

And he did. With those few huskily delivered words he seemed to overcome his shock and he...did what she said. He touched her. Everywhere. Finally. And God, was it good. That was when she figured things weren’t going to stop there. So...yes. Definitely her idea. Having unforeseen, semi-public sex with her boss and best friend on a filthy floor in a downtown shooting range on their lunch hour is apparently what she’s into now. But she isn’t interested in thinking about it. Not right now. Because Jack is too tall. He’s too big and it’s not working for her. The only solution is to take him down, push him to the ground. Which is what Liz does next.

Jack goes willingly and she lands a little awkwardly in his lap, legs spread over him and hands clasping his face as she continues their kiss. She turns her head this way and that, biting his lips, stroking his tongue with hers, making him moan in a low, primal way that is so completely male, so totally Jack. She never in her life imagined creating such a sound, from him or anyone. Most particularly from him. She is though. She’s doing it. She’s doing it all. And Jack is loving it. He’s eating it up. He is completely at her mercy. His body is arching beneath her, his hardness pressing at her covered center, all but begging for her attention. He needn’t beg though. Because she’s gonna give it to him. Hells yeah, she is.

She takes a quick breath – she’s not got time for stupid stuff like breathing -- before launching into a new kiss, letting her left hand skim down his body. She unzips him, slips her hand inside. Normally, she might stroke him through his trousers. Normally, she’d probably go slow. Normally, she had a rather tentative relationship with the male member. But nothing about this is normal. Not for her. Not for them. And frankly, she is in no mood to practice restraint. Because she wants it. Which is so weird. She actually wants Jack’s cock. She wants it in her hand and in her body. So very weird. She wants to feel her skin slide against his. She wants to make him moan some more, make him shudder and breathe her name. She doesn’t even care which one he uses. Either one would work. And she doesn’t just crave his moans because each one makes the moisture bubble between her thighs, although they do do that, each and every time they happen. She’s never been this ready, this turned on in her whole life. Which is not saying much. Except that she is really, really...ready. For him. She really, really wants...him.

So after Jack groans her name (the first, and yiiiiikes) into their kiss while her hand strokes his thingy, she scrambles to her feet. He watches, silent but blue eyes dark with arousal and anticipation. She casts a cursory glance towards the heavy, grey door at the end of the dark, grey hall. But her brain is no longer the boss of her. Her hands are already at the top of her jeans, they know what comes next. When her eyes return to Jack, he is still watching her, one hand on his cock, springing from his open trousers. He strokes it slowly, from root to tip, root to tip and then again. His eyes drop to her hands, then to the part of her body where her legs join. He watches her hastily unzip and push the jeans down, with her underwear, then kick them away, along with her shoes. He doesn’t care that she leaves her socks on because of the gross floor. And her secret foot thing. He just keeps watching as she steps back over him. Only then, when she’s standing over him, legs spread, does he move. His eyes lift to her face. His hands, including the one that was stroking himself, go to her legs, to her ankles, resting on her green socks.

“Stay,” he says softly.

Liz pauses. It’s the first time he’s spoken the whole time. Apart from moaning her name. Her heart sinks momentarily. But stay doesn’t mean stop. And he’s still looking at her with that familiar, now unleashed erotic twinkle. So she assumes he doesn’t wish to stop. All Jack wants to do, it appears, is run the fingers of both hands up the outsides of her legs. Then he wants to leave one hand on her hip, right where her shirt grazes her skin, while the other moves up the inside of her thigh. And okay, she sees where he’s going with this. His eyes drop to the curls covering her apex as his chest expands in a deep rhythm. Then his hand touches her. There. Just...there. And her head falls back on her neck. All the breath leaves her body as his fingers slide against her, exploring, spreading, caressing. Then either she is brought towards him or he leans forward or a little of both because next she feels his breath, then his hair against her stomach. Her head shoots up. And then down, she releases a gasp as his lips touch her silky, swollen flesh.

Normally, she does not like this. Because normally this feels...well, normal. Ordinary and odd. But Jack doing it feels anything but. She loves it now, needs it. And she shows him this by grabbing fistfuls of his hair and keeping him there. This makes him groan too and the vibrations sink into her flesh, igniting her shattered nerves. His hands slide round to her butt and his mouth opens fully, opens against her. She opens her eyes to watch as he tilts her hips forward and ducks his head and begins to kiss her, kiss her there, just like he’d kiss her mouth. She takes about as much of that as she can before sinking back to his lap. He grabs her face and kisses her hungrily and she tastes herself on him. When she tries to pull back he doesn’t let her. His hands cup her head, his kiss growing more insistent until the taste of woman, of salt, of her just becomes another sensation that normally might not work for her, but now causes much less familiar sensations. Like desire, urgency, abandon. It becomes, in fact, the last proverbial straw. The thing that makes her reach between them, find his cock and lift herself up so that she can guide him inside her.

Their kiss stalls. Her forehead drops to his shoulder. Jack groans, low, wordless, clutching her close. She sits a moment, limp, impaled, relieved. His hips shift beneath her impatiently. His hands sweep under her shirt, over the skin of her back, then they reach round front, grasp the material of her shirt and literally rip it apart. Unsurprisingly, this works for her too. She lets him attack her chest with relish, she watches, eyelashes falling heavily, feeling his mouth kiss her collarbone and then descend, painting her skin with hot breath. She feels his tongue slide under the material of her bra, against her heated flesh. He noses the material out of the way, managing somehow to extract her boob from its cup using only his mouth. He sucks at it, breathing against her, making her moan and arch towards his mouth. But he abandons it all of a sudden, kissing his way up her neck where he pants roughly in her ear:

“Fuck me, Lemon. Fuck me now.”

So she does. His mouth moves to the other side of her neck, she waits until he kisses back down to her other boob. He frees it in the same way then draws it into the warm cavern of his mouth. Then she lifts herself off him and starts to fuck him. She moves slowly, shallowly at first. She likes the feel of him filling her too much to do without it for long. So she doesn’t let him retreat too far. But it’s enough. Enough for him. Enough for her. His head lifts after a few moments, his hands taking over the teasing of her breasts. His head drops back against the wall, eyes half closed but rapt, watching her movements, watching his hands on her flesh, watching her eyes glitter down at him. He moans at just at that. Just at how she moves, at watching her watch him.

His fingers pinch, making her speed up. They pinch harder, making her speed up even more. She presses her hands to the wall, either side of his head as she continues to press down on him, taking him in over and over as he rises to meet her, over and over. They find the perfect rhythm, move together, against each other. And that’s all it takes. Within no time at all, she’s coming. Harder and sooner than she ever has before. She generally has silent orgasms too, if she’s lucky enough to have them at all. But this time, Jack has to silence her with a hand over her mouth. When her initial spasms taper off, he lowers his hand to their joining, fingers her clitoris a moment and makes her go off again. This time he silences her with his mouth. Jack comes just after, one arm wrapped around her as his body strains up beneath her, thrusting, rapid and deep, before he slumps back against the wall. She collapses on top of him, one hand still lying limply against the cold wall, her forehead pressed to it. Jack’s hands continue to move, over her thighs, her butt, her back as their breaths calm and their bodies cool.

A door slams somewhere in the distance, disturbing them. She’s on her feet in a shot and swearing under her breath as she hops on one foot, trying to get her pants back on fast. Footsteps sound in the corridor outside but pass them right by. No one enters. Jack makes himself decent as she finishes getting dressed, smoothing her hair back from her face, shoving her feet back into her shoes, buttoning the one button left on her shirt and tucking it into the waist of her jeans. Jack scrutinizes her the whole time. She feels it. She glances up, meeting his eyes in a way that seems accidental, despite the fact that she was expecting it. She flushes, silently curses herself for flushing then drops her gaze away.

He takes a step towards her. “So...”

His voice sounds odd after all his moans and groans. It echoes off the hard walls as his moans and groans must have done also. And hers, mingling with his.

“So...” she replies, her throat dry, sore. She licks her lips, swallows hard. “That was--”

He pulls her forward by her ripped shirt. And kisses her, the insistence of the kiss making his message clear. She smiles against his mouth, kisses him back. So that’s how this was going to go.

Well...okay then.

So maybe this first time was all her idea. She can admit that. She was the instigator here. She was the one who lost it and jumped him. But the second time she and Jack have sex – and however many times might follow – she’s pretty sure the idea, like the pleasure, will be shared equally by them both.

_END._

For more of my "30 Rock" fanfic go [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/812100/Mindy35)


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